


Dive Bar

by Jaetion



Category: Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: Alcohol, Chiss, F/M, Kink Meme, Masturbation, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaetion/pseuds/Jaetion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the SWTOR Kink Meme over on LJ: "My IA was very sad when she didn't have the opportunity to flirt with the handsome and roguish smuggler with the noble cause. She's hoping that maybe she'll encounter him again.  The IA does meet him again, not such a stretch considering they work for the same employer, and sparks fly. She finds that his swagger is not for nothing, both on the job and in the bedroom. Share with us how it happens, Anon! Human or Chiss IA is preferred.  Thank you :heart:"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dive Bar

They recognized each other from across the bar. He raised his drink, she her eyebrows and then her lips into a smile. When he titled his head toward an empty booth she slid off her stool to follow him, leaving behind the Twi'lek who'd been desperately attempting to discover if Chiss tasted like blueberries, like he'd heard.

"Nokril," she recalled aloud as she joined him. "From Hutta."

His grin was crooked, like he was too lazy to finish it. "I never did catch your name," he replied. "But I can guess why. You have a number I can use instead?"

"Nine," she said. It was a safe enough pseudonym, nothing that he could trace back. She wasn't surprised he'd determined that she worked for Intelligence - A Chiss Imperial rarely held any other position. She studied him as she slid into the booth next to him: hair was shorter and a new scar under his left ear, but his eyes were still flirtatious, like they were both in on the same joke. Which, she reckoned, in a way they were. "What are you doing on Nar Shaddaa? Business or pleasure?"

"More business with the Hutts. And I'm keeping that relationship strictly business."

She laughed over the rim of her glass. "Well, then you'll have to find your pleasure with someone else."

"I've been tailing a smuggler - that Zabrak. Boring work, but necessary." He motioned toward his target, who was getting drunk at the bar and waving a bottle in the air in time, mostly, to the music. "Hopefully she's too far gone to notice."

Nine's own work was done, for the day anyway. Tomorrow she'd be somewhere else, being someone else. A drink or two was as much respite as she'd get from the constant motion of the job. A drink or two, but it didn't have to be alone. The solitary nature of her work occasionally veered her into loneliness, long days in strange cities, cold nights at her desk instead of in bed. She smiled again, the sideways one with lowered lids that made her bright red eyes smolder, and suggested, "I could help with your cover."

When he raised his arm she pressed against his side, fitting herself along him. He smelled like smoke and the sharpness of whatever he was drinking. There was a patch of scruff on his neck and she could see the shadow of a bruise there, where the skin had been too sore to shave. Her own wounds were knitting up nicely and her drink dampened the aching, allowing the first hints of pleasure to warm her stomach and start winding downward. For the moment she was content to curl into him, thighs touching and his hand on her shoulder, but then he spoke again, voice low and mouth close enough that his breath made the hair covering her ear flutter, "We could make this more convincing."

She was thoughtful as she finished her drink, licking the last beads of watery Ithorian whiskey from the edge of the glass, then slid it away across the table. Nokril was watching her, and not out of simple curiosity. Nine liked the way his lips parted and those pretty human eyes narrowed, the way his knee nudged hers. Weighing her options took only a moment.

The movement was smooth: she turned and swung a leg around him, planting herself in his lap. Arms around his neck, fingers in his hair. His surprised expression stripped his face of cynicism and made him look younger but in a second it was replaced with a knowing grin.

"Kink for public displays, huh?" he teased. His hands moved up her thighs to rest under her belt. "Fine by me."

"Efficiency is the backbone of our business, Nokril," she said against his neck. He raised his hips to press up against her and the grip on her waist grew tighter when she pressed her lips against the skin that only her breath had touched before. "What's your smuggler doing now?"

"Ah, arguing with the bartender."

"Good. Keep your eyes on her." 

The way humans blushed had amused her, too, turning pink like some summer fruit from a far away planet. Even in the dimmed lights she could see the flush of blood under his pale skin, spreading from his neck into his narrow face. Nine rubbed her nose against the underside of his jaw while her hands followed the trail of his jacket's zipper down his chest. Each of his breaths - getting a bit shorter now, with the exception of a few sighs - brought his chest up to meet her palms. When she reached his belt, Nokril groaned and pressed his face against her throat.

"I thought I told you to keep an eye on the target," she chided as she pulled back. Her fingers froze, the tips just under the waist of his pants.

"She's not doing anything! Drinking. Again. Still. More."

Nine lowered herself back down. "This time, don't get distracted."

He kissed her ear, grabbing the lobe between sharp teeth - a nice apology. His hands roamed up and down her sides until settling under her breasts where his thumbs could reach up to stroke her nipples through the layers of her clothes.

She made swift work of his belt and buckles, and then to give her hands more room to work, slid down his thighs. Ah, that had felt nice, the warm friction against her open legs. Her other movements were smooth and quick as she freed his erection from the confines of his pants. He was hot and stiff in her hand, and the head of his cock slick - She imagined filling herself with him, that feeling of holding that hotness, that hardness inside. If she'd been wearing a skirt, or even robes, she would have mounted him there in the cantina, protected from notice by the noise and shadows. Mounted him and fucked him, fast and hard and up and down until he was groaning her name and she was shivering around him.

She kept her voice steady when she asked again, "What's she doing now?"

"Slumped over the counter."

"Good," she said with a smirk. She paused to lick a bead of sweat that slid along his jawline. "Buys us a little more time."

If she'd been wearing her full armor, it would have been impossible, but in clothes... Nine flicked opening her pants and dipped her hand down until, with a sigh that he echoed, she found her clit, and each time she stroked his cock she stroked herself.

Nokril's hot breath panted in her ear. "Faster," he urged. His hands slid down her back to grasp at her thighs, kneading them in in time with her own movements. He bit at her earlobe again, his tongue wet and velvety.

She almost obeyed. But then instead she dragged her nails up, gently scratching at the thick vein running up his cock. The groan that passed through his lips made her giddy and she squeezed harder to make him repeat it. "Ask me nicely and I might."

"Please," he begged and groaned again. 

He was nearly there, and Nine was getting desperately close to coming herself: hot shivers that made her legs weak, flutterings as her heartbeat sped up. She claimed his mouth with a kiss as she made a fist over the head of his cock. But before she let him climax, Nine pressed her fingers harder on her clit and with a gasp reached her own orgasm, one that made light flash behind her closed eyes like the club's spotlights had finally found them. Nokril's hands were desperately gripping her legs - Nine smiled lazily at his taunt expression and kissed him again, slow and wet over those begging lips. Her palm was smeared with his precum already so gliding her hand back and forth over his cock was simple. "Wish we had time for more," she murmured as she leaned harder against him. "Maybe some other bar, some other night. For now-"

His back arched when he came and Nokril's bowed head pressed sweat onto her shoulder. He kissed her neck, her cheek, her temple, and was searching for her mouth but Nine had already turned her head away. As she scanned the crowd for the smuggler, he made do with nibbling on her earlobe again and Nine, who was ready to return to business, allowed herself another few moments of pleasure.

"Your smuggler's almost at the door," she said through her smile. His damp hair had spiked in wild directions and his pretty eyes were warm - She couldn't resist another chance to flaunt and with his eyes on her, Nine licked at the semen coating her fingers. She laughed as she climbed off his lap and with a discrete movement she closed her pants and adjusted her jacket. There, neat and professional as always.

"I'll see you again." Nokril said as he brushed her hair back behind her ear. "That's a promise."

Nine watched him slip into the crowd. She ordered another drink and drank it slowly as she surveyed the bar, but nothing caught her attention. When enough time had passed for her to be certain that she had no tail of her own, Nine stood up and began the long walk back to her ship. She hadn't expected to stay out as long as she had, but Kaliyo would understand. A satisfied smile settled on her lips. And Keeper had said that being an agent wasn't all fun and games.


End file.
